


for your sweet kiss is all I wish to be owning

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, I Don't Even Know, Mild Sexual Content, Older Sansa, POV Sandor, POV Second Person, Post - A Feast for Crows, Spoilers for Book 4 - A Feast for Crows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-09 00:19:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10399434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: Not kissing her is probably the one thing that you don’t regret, of the part of your life that started when you lost half of your face and ended on the Quiet Isle.But then she speaks again.It’s the only kiss I was ever given that I wanted to remember – will you kiss me again?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm, so, for the chapter where I was looking through my unposted stuff, I found this thing I had written for a porn battle ages ago and didn't post for reasons among which 'I never wrote anything for this fandom am I really adding anything'. Then I looked at it years later and gone like 'well okay it was better than I thought it was'. I'm still trying to empty out my 'TO REPOST PROPERLY' folder so... here we go? Really this was just me trying to get the feel of the characters way back when I had just finished reading the series, that's about it. (That said wow the times when I could write a story in less than 1k. How beautiful.) Have fun with my blast from the past. ;)
> 
> That said nothing belongs to me and the title is from Bob Dylan and I wish this would happen in canon but hahaha who's even hoping by now I just want WoW to be out. xD

_You kissed me_ , she says, _that one time_.

You don’t understand why she’d say that – you never kissed her, not even when you were this close to do it. She had been there, frail, helpless, and she had given you that song, and she had been so close, mere inches. You _could_ have kissed her but you didn’t, because in the chance she had never been really kissed by anyone then she didn’t deserve her first to be the likes of you. Not kissing her is probably the one thing that you don’t regret, of the part of your life that started when you lost half of your face and ended on the Quiet Isle.

But then she speaks again. _It’s the only kiss I was ever given that I wanted to remember – will you kiss me again?_

You don’t tell her that it never happened – maybe she dreamed it. But why would she want it?

You don’t know, but having tried to atone for your past life doesn’t mean that you learned to resist such temptation, not when she’s here and you met again and she’s still a little bird, though maybe not as lost in illusions. 

So, you kiss her, hoping that it measures with whatever she has in mind. You don’t know what sort of kiss it was, but you aren’t the kind of knight that bestows gentle and chaste kisses on maidens, and she’s most definitely not the scared girl she used to be, and not a maiden either. So, you kiss her, hard and fast and crushing her to your chest, not knowing if you’ll both have another chance; she sighs into your mouth, her small hands gripping your back, and when your tongue meets hers she kisses back without shame, as if it’s exactly what she wants.

You can’t make sense of that, but this isn’t making it easy for you – you want her singing for you, maybe not a proper song as the one she gave you last time but one that is made of moans and sighs and sparse words. You think about something you heard once that wildlings say – about red-haired people kissed by fire and being luckier for it. It’s most probably a bunch of lies, same thing as the songs Sansa used to believe in, but you can’t shake away the thought.

When the kiss is over she sighs in pleasure, and you wish you could feel her hand when she touches the burn on your face.

_You can’t want this, little bird_ , you say, trying to make her reason – she could do a lot better than this, now that she doesn’t have to hide in the Vale anymore and that both her marriages have been invalidated, and you might have changed, too, but you still have enough regrets to haunt you for the rest of your life. She doesn’t have to deal with that.

_I know what I want_ , she says. _And I know that you were right. Maybe I value honesty more than songs_ , and then she’s kissing you again, her hands already on your breeches, and she can obviously feel how much exactly you want her. _I learned_ , she says, and you realize exactly how much when she starts stroking your cock. You should stop her, but the flesh is weak and you don’t want her to stop.

_What if I still want songs from you?_

You hadn’t planned on asking, but it escaped from your mouth and she stops, looking almost surprised.

_You do?_

Her voice is almost small, not as sure, and for a second it feels as if they were back in her room after Blackwater.

_It’s the only thing I ever of from you, wasn’t it?_

The small sound that comes from the back of her throat is music to you, but you barely have time to take it in before she raises the skirt of a gown that isn’t the silk she used to wear and gets rid of her smallclothes, and then her legs are around yours and you couldn’t stop even if you tried.

She’s wet around you, and tight, and the way her lips slowly curl up into a smile as she starts moving say everything. You can’t help it – you bring an arm around her, pressing her against you, and she doesn’t try to be quiet. You don’t want her to be quiet, either – you want to hear everything she has to sing as she moves along with you. Her hair is everywhere – on your face, on your chest, there for you to run your hands through it. Indeed kissed by fire, you think, before kissing her again. You feel her moaning inside your mouth and you wonder what is the one good thing you did to deserve having her like this, but then she’s closing her eyes and baring her neck as she sighs in pleasure and she’s bringing you along. You pull out just in time not to come inside her – you can’t be too sure and children aren’t what you need or she needs, and you spill against her thigh, her hands buried in your hair and yours gripping her hips so hard that you’ll probably leave bruises.

_Do you still want songs from me?_ , she asks later.

_Do you still want me to kiss you?_ , you ask back.

She smiles at that, barely but there, and you think that even if she has changed, it’s not been for the worst. Especially if it means that she can look at you without flinching.

 

End.


End file.
